The Producers: Torchwood Style
by LovelyxIrony
Summary: Accountant Ianto Jones had a perfectly normal life - until theatrical producer Jack Harkness managed to wrangle him into one of the most idiotic schemes ever. Pairings: Jack/Ianto.
1. We Can Do It!

**Title: **The Producers: Torchwood Style

**Author:** LovelyxIrony

**Rating:** T

**Summary:** Accountant Ianto Jones had a perfectly normal life - until theatrical producer Jack Harkness managed to wrangle him into one of the most idiotic schemes ever.

**Pairings:** Jack/Ianto

* * *

**Chapter One:**  
_We Can Do It_

Ianto Jones, a local accountant from Whitehall and Marks for the Cardiff public, usually found his job extremely dull and frustrating due to the idiots he was sometimes forced to work for. Yet, as he walked down the streets of Cardiff frantically straightening out his clothing, he couldn't help but to feel a thrill of excitement. Ianto remembered the sudden oncoming emotion of awe as he was informed by his boss that he'd be doing some accounting for _the_ Jack Harkness. _The_ theatrical producer Jack Harkness, who Ianto had always somewhat hero worshiped since the first time his parents had taken him to one of the plays Harkness had produced. He still held some of that hero worship for Jack Harkness, even if the man hadn't produced a decent play in years.

Sooner than he thought possible, Ianto found himself at a door labeled _Jack Harkness Theatrical Producer_ and felt himself staring for a few minutes, mouth slightly agape, before shaking himself. He gave the door a knock, paused, then knocked again and startled when it opened a crack. No noise indicated anyone was in the room, but Ianto entered the room cautiously anyway, holding a hand to the door. "Hello?" He called into the silent room, spotting a mess of newspapers on the couch and trying to keep himself from tidying it up. Mess was one of Ianto's pet peeves - he _hated_ any form of clutter. Choosing to ignore it, Ianto walked further into the room. "Mr Harkness?" He drew nearer to the couch, frowning. "Mr Harkness?"

Without any warning whatsoever, the newspapers were suddenly thrown off the couch and a man surged to his feet with an expression that suggested he was ready for a fight. Ianto stared, taking a quick step back as he took in the man's appearance - spiked brown hair, bright blue eyes, and dressed in suit pants and a white undershirt. They stared at each other for a moment, and Ianto took another hasty step backwards as the other man took one forward. "Who are you?" The older man demanded, his eyes narrowing. His voice was low, but not harsh on the ears as he stared at the Welshman. "What do you want?" By this point, Ianto found himself cornered against the door, not realizing how quickly they'd both moved until he was almost nose to nose with the other. He blinked, swallowing nervously. Then, the man gave a sigh and actually looked at Ianto. Much to the Welshman's unnerve, he smirked. A dazzling, all too cunning smirk. "Well. Hello." A pause, as he obviously waited for Ianto to respond, his mouth settling in a frown when the younger man didn't. "Why don't you speak?"

By the time this had all passed, Ianto had really looked at the man and had come to a conclusion. This was surely Jack Harkness - everything about the man was exactly as Ianto had heard. He swallowed again, blinked, then gave an awkward sort of grin. "Sorry. You scared me, that's all." Ianto straightened, tugging at his tie in an attempt to straighten it and trying to will himself to relax.

Harkness' smirk was still there, his eyes nearly undressing Ianto, who felt his face flush. "Who are you?" The producer asked once more, raising an eyebrow.

"Jones, Ianto Jones. I'm an accountant and I've come here to do your books."

"Well, Jones, Ianto Jones. May I take your coat?" The man held out a hand and Ianto shrugged out of his jacket, handing it to the other and looking around the office closely. "So." The man was beside him again and the Welshman fought back a flinch, startled. "You're an accountant, hm?" All he could do was nod, glancing sideways. A moment later, he was shown the books and seated down as Harkness made his way back to the couch. Ianto flipped through the record book, frowning a bit.

He glanced up, tilting his head. "These numbers are a bit off."

"So I took a few dollars out for a party. Who cares? The show was a flop. Just move a couple of numbers around." The producer muttered from the couch, his arm over his eyes.

Ianto couldn't help the frown that crossed his lips. "That's cheating, you know. I can't do that. Plus, it's illegal."

An instant later, Harkness was beside him with that charming, odd grin back in place. "It's not cheating. It's charity. It's in your power, isn't it? You're an accountant, aren't you? The word count _is_ part of your title." They stared at each other, and Ianto swore he could see a pout on the man's lips. He sighed, rolled his eyes, then muttered 'fine', fiddling with a few numbers before frowning.

"Amazing." Ianto muttered more to himself, not even realizing he was speaking out loud. "It's absolutely amazing. These numbers show that if a producer were to play his cards right, he could make more money with a flop than with a hit."

"_What_?" Harkness had suddenly sat up from where he'd placed himself back on the couch.

"What?"

"What you were saying. About the potential of a flop making more money than a hit."

"Well, it's true. Technically, a producer could make more money with a flop than with a hit."

Harkness had an odd gleam in his eyes, grinning. "Yes, but you don't say _how_, Jones, Ianto Jones."

And that was when things started to go horribly wrong. Ianto should've known to keep his mouth shut, but it had slipped out anyway - exactly _how_ Harkness could get away with the entire thing. The next second, he'd found the man hysterical with glee and babbling on about something involving "their scheme". It escalated from there, Harkness trying to convince Ianto to help him in fraud. Which would, of course, never happen. After a minute of staring dumbfounded, he'd ran quickly out of the room and felt Harkness following him. The man had caught up with him, they'd caused a scene right out in public, and Ianto had taken the opportunity to run during Harkness' complete concentration on his speech trying to convince Ianto to join him. Although he hadn't missed the man's exclamation of "_we can do it!_" and his huge, blinding grin. He also hadn't missed Harkness' look of disappointment when Ianto had ran off with a yell of "goodbye forever!" over his shoulder.

They did say bad days only got worse.

If only Ianto had known things could only get worse from there and that Harkness wouldn't leave him be until Ianto helped him out.

* * *

**So, what do you think? Keep or trash? Upcoming characters are: John Hart as Roger; Gwen as Ulla. But who do you think should play Carmen Dia and who should play Franz?**

**And on a second note: R&R please!  
**


	2. I Wanna Be A Theatrical Producer

**Woo! Chapter two. I'm actually surprised this was received so well, but I'm glad.**

**Enjoy!  
**

* * *

Chapter Two:  
_I Wanna Be A (Theatrical) Producer_

Ianto approached the tall building that was the headquarters of Whitehall and Marks, moving quickly into the doorway and down the hall. He glanced at his watch and grimaced as his eyes settled on the time. To most employers, two minutes wouldn't be horribly late, but Ianto didn't work for _most_ employers. No, he had to work for Jayce Weev, who had to be the most sadistic boss on planet Earth. Since he'd taken over as the head CPA, several people had been fired to "lazying about" and more than half had been screamed and hollered at to work faster and do more when they were already up to their eyeballs in paperwork.

As he drew closer to the door, the tapping of computer keys could be heard. Hoping this would somehow cover up his entrance, Ianto quickly ducked into the room and shrugged out of his jacket once more, hanging it up on the coat rack. He listened intently in case there was any indication of Weev being around, biting his lower lip.

"_JONES!_"

With a startled curse and wince, Ianto flew around and nearly knocked over the coat rack in his attempt to defend himself against the sudden threat. He blinked, then grimaced when he spotted Jayce Weev standing in the center of the room. The man's eyes were narrowed - as was his usual expression, at least in Ianto's opinion, not that he'd ever say it out loud - and Weev was taking gigantic steps to get right into Ianto's personal space so their noses were almost touching. Ianto almost shrank back as harsh, disgusting breath fanned into his face, grimacing.

"Where the hell have you been? This, Jones, is an accounting firm! Not one of your country clubs! Do you really think you can just come and go as you please?"

Ianto swallowed, trying to get around Weev like one would try to slowly get away from an animal as though scared it would suddenly charge. "No, sir. Thank you for speaking to me, sir." He said quietly, starting toward his desk and falling into a seat. Once again, Weev seemed to find it appropriate to invade the Welshman's space once more.

"Keep in mind, Jones, that I'm your boss. Any more lateness and you'll be finding yourself looking for a new job." With some embarrassment, Ianto realized people were listening in - although with how loud Weev was being, listening in wasn't all that hard. Weev seemed to notice as well, and straightened up with a glare. "What are you all gawking at?! Get back to work! _All of you!_" With that, the man brushed hard passed Ianto's chair and the accountant breathed a sigh of relief, switching on his computer.

He stared at the screen for a moment, feeling some resentment as Ianto brought up paperwork he'd been reviewing before Weev had informed him of his visit to see Harkness. Grimacing, Ianto forced Harkness out of his mind the instant he popped up and started to type out a few sentences. Still, he found his mind drifting right back to when he'd been in Harkness' office and the offer the man had made. Now that Ianto thought about it, being a co-producer with Harkness wouldn't have been _that_ terrible. Better than this pile of rubbish he was forced to call his job.

But, no, this was where he belonged.

It didn't matter that being a producer had always been something Ianto would have been eager to jump into if he could have. It seemed fun, entertaining, and had more effect on the world than being an accountant ever would. There was no denying that - people always went out to see plays. They always went out to be entertained.

Ianto shook himself out of his thoughts quickly, then blinked when he caught sight of the screen. _Ianto Jones: Theatrical Producer_ was written across the computer screen about twenty times, having been typed without Ianto consciously doing it. Suddenly, seized with sudden determination, Ianto turned off the computer and hopped up, grabbing up his briefcase and reaching for a few folders. The last one slid off the desk, landing with a thud on the floor.

"_What the hell is going on here?!_" Weev had come running out of his office, looking furious that someone had the nerve to disturb the depressing quiet. "Do I smell the revolting stench of self esteem?" Then, he spotted Ianto, who had picked up the folder and was making a hasty retreat. "_JONES!_ Where are you going?"

Pausing to glance over his shoulder, Ianto smirked. "I quit." And, with that, he left the room listening to his previous colleques break out into whispers as Weev shouted at him to come back.

* * * *

Ianto had hailed a cab the instant he'd left Whitehall and Marks, beaming with joy at his decision as the Welshman instructed the cab driver to head toward Jack Harkness' office. They passed the fountain where Ianto had last seen Harkness, and he yelled quickly for the cab driver to stop when he spotted a crouched figure by the golden fountain. It was Harkness, if his coat was anything to go by.

Quickly, Ianto forced money into the cab driver's hand and darted out, running toward the figure. "Mr Harkness!" He exclaimed, nearly falling over the man as he came to an abrupt halt. "I'm back! I've changed my mind!"

Harkness had frozen, staring up at him, then broke into a grin. "Boy, you are good." He muttered, to seemingly no one. Ianto blinked, looking around.

"Who are you talking to?"

"What? Oh, nothing!" Harkness had climbed to his feet and, to Ianto's shock, had embraced him in a bone crushing hug. "Ready to make ourselves rich, Ianto?" He asked with a smirk, and all Ianto could do was nod back, the reality of what he'd just done hitting him.

Oh boy.

* * *

**In Chapter Three, it's basically just about Jack and Ianto finding the worst possible play they can.**

**In Chapter Four, we'll meet Owen...as Franz Liebkind, the crazy Nazi man. Ahaha xD. And in Chapter Five, there will be John Hart as Roger De Bris and Rhys Williams as Carmen Dhia.**

**ON A MORE SERIOUS NOTE: R&R please!!  
**


	3. Search For the Worst Play Ever Written

**Chapter three! I'm excited to start writing Chapter four, and you'll see why once you read this chapter ;].**

**jack4ianto09:** Thanks for the character suggestions, it helped! I was thinking before of using Owen for Franz, just because it'd be funny to see that character in that role. I was really torn for who would play Carmen Dhia, but I think Rhys would be pretty hilarious in that role, so...oh, and hope you like chapter three!

**wanda1969:** Yeah, I've started to like AU stories a lot - especially Torchwood AU stuff, so I'll probably be writing more of it...

**specialfrancine:** I'm glad you like this story so far! And you haven't seen_ The Producers_?! It's amazing, you really should! Well, at least the 2005 musical edition is excellent. I really can't stand the old _Producers_ movie...

**milady dragon:** Glad you like it, and hope you enjoy this chapter!

* * *

Chapter Three:  
_The Search for the Worst Play Ever Written  
_

If Ianto had thought working as an accountant had been complete and utter hell, he'd completely changed his mind after two hours of flipping through play after play. It had to be one of the slowest, most irritating tasks on the planet that he'd ever had to perform. It didn't help, either, that apparently Jack was against them taking any sort of break from the whole process. By the thirtieth play, Ianto's eyes had started to grow foggy. He was currently sprawled out on one of the chairs in Jack's office space, his head thrown back in a sign of overdramatic grief. "Jack." He started, releasing a sigh and letting his head tip forward to regard the other. The older man was laid out on the sofa previously scattered with papers, his eyes intent on a brown folder containing one of the plays. "Jack, we've been reading all night. I can't do it anymore. There's only so much reading a person can do..."

"Stop complaining." Jack grumbled from where he was still behind the folder, his hand tossing it aside after a moment. He didn't even look exhausted or annoyed, which Ianto found rather infuriating as he was currently feeling as if he was going to pass out at any given second. "We have to find the worst play on the planet. Read. C'mon, Ianto." With a huff, Ianto picked up another folder as Jack picked up a blue one. A second later, the man spoke. "Huh. This one might work: _Gregor Sampsor awoke one morning to find that he'd been transformed into a giant cockroach..._"

Ianto glanced up, shaking his head. "No, that's too good." The Welshman muttered after a moment, pulling a face as he thought it over.

"How so? It's about a man turning into a _cockroach_. Hardly riveting in my opinion."

"Because it has the potential of actually having a plot and keeping the audiences interest..." Ianto muttered, staring at the page he was reading. With another grumble, Jack chucked that folder and reached for another as the Welshman gave a moan. "_But how could you see me, the glass was frosted..._I've read this one five times already! _The Frosted Glass_ - see! I've memorized the title, even! This is just proof we've been reading too much, Jack. I can't take it. We should just quit." He stood, moving toward Jack, who had his face hidden underneath the folder. His shoulders were shaking, and for a moment, Ianto feared the man had either broken down or gone mental. "I mean, really. We'll never find it."

A sudden splutter of laughter from behind the play the other man was behind shocked Ianto, who stared as Jack's dark blue eyes appeared over the top of the folder. "We'll never find it, huh?" His entire face appeared now, filled with a mirth that Ianto didn't quite understand. A second later, the man grabbed his braces and tugged him down so they were almost uncomfortably close. "_We'll never find it, huh?!_ Ianto, I have struck the motherlode right now."

"What?"

Jack held up the folder, looking triumphant. "This little beauty is, honestly, probably one of the worst plays that I've ever had to read. I don't see it lasting in theater for more than a week. If even that. Maybe a day."

Ianto surveyed the folder, holding out his hand. "Can I see it?" A second later, Jack placed it in his hand and the Welshman flipped the folder back open, reading the title. "_A Gay Romp with Hitler._" He blinked, then blinked again as it hit him. "_What?!_"

His face must have been hilarious, because Jack burst into another round of laughter. "See! That play has got to close -" The older man snatched the play from Ianto's hands, riffling through it. He stopped at a page, holding it triumphantly up. "By page four. The audience will be running out of the theater by that point." Standing, Jack thrusted the play back into Ianto's hands and pretty much danced his way toward the coat rack. The man pulled on his coat, tossing Ianto's his, who caught it with a blink. It was rather unnerving how fast Jack was moving suddenly. "Right. Who's the author? And what's the address?"

Flipping the folder open again, Ianto's eyes scanned the page. "Owen Harper - he's about two blocks from here in that old apartment building."

"Owen Harper!" Jack pretty much sang the name out to himself as he shrugged into his coat and moved forward to grab Ianto by the arm. The younger man yelped as he was dragged to his feet, trying to get into his coat as Jack rushed him out the door. "Let's go! We'll get this play, even if we have to go so far as to pay the man!" With a small sigh, Ianto let himself be pushed out the door and waited for Jack to join him. With a gleeful grin on his face, the older man grabbed his arm again and continued to drag him down the hall, a slight bounce in his step.

* * *

**R&R please!**

**By the way, for those of you following "Time Heals" - that WILL be updated soon, I'm just really taking my time with that one because a lot of people have it on their alert list and it makes me feel like I've really got to do well with all the chapters. I haven't given up on it.  
**


	4. The Psychotic Writer

**WOO CHAPTER FOUR!!**

**Enjoy!  
**

* * *

Chapter Four:  
_The Psychotic Writer_

The building that greeted them was one of the older in the city of Cardiff - run down and depressing looking, it wasn't exactly all the welcoming in Ianto's opinion. He stared up at the tall, imposing figure, his eyebrows raised. Then, Ianto's gaze switched to Jack, who was looking a little apprehensive himself. "You know, maybe this wasn't such a good idea..." Ianto started, crossing his arms over his chest and inclining his head back to get more of a look at the apartments.

"Nah. It's perfectly fine." Jack had walked forward without Ianto realizing it, and he picked up the pace quickly to catch up with the man as he opened the front doors of the building. With a reluctant sigh, Ianto followed after Jack, who led him up the stairs toward the landlady's apartment room. The older man knocked, putting on the same charming grin that he'd given Ianto the first day. It sent an odd burning feeling through Ianto, but he dismissed it as a pretty Japanese woman answered the door. She had black hair tucked behind her ears and thin red glasses, the eyes behind which were currently startled as they took in the sight of Jack and Ianto on her doorstep.

She took a moment to gather her thoughts, it seemed, then smiled. "Uhm. Hello. Can I help you?"

"I believe so." There was a flirty quality to Jack's voice that Ianto instantly found grating to his nerves. "Does an Owen Harper live here?"

"Owen?" The startled look deepened on her face. "Yes. Yes, he does. He's not in his room right now, though. You can check the roof. He spends most of his time up there, God only knows why." She settled her hands on her hips, frowning. "Is Owen in some kind of trouble."

Jack shook his head as Ianto gave the woman a smile and answered. "No, he's not Mrs...?"

"Miss Toshiko Sato."

"Miss Sato. We'd just like to talk to him." Ianto gave her a smile again, trying to ignore the way Jack was sizing the woman up. "Thank you for your time." He inclined his head, then grabbed Jack by his arm and tugged the other man roughly down the hall and up the stairs toward where Ianto assumed the roof was. They entered, ignoring the _Stay off roof_ sign and were instantly greeted by a rather bizarre picture.

A somewhat short man stood on the roof, standing near a cage full of birds. Next to him was medical equipment of some kind and he was muttering to himself. The man had dark brown hair and almost black eyes. That wasn't the oddest part, however. He was dressed in Nazi uniform as well as a lab coat of some kind. Ianto blinked, blinked once again, then stared at Jack, who shrugged and started forward.

"Mister Harper -"

With a startled flinch that sent the medical equipment flying, Owen Harper turned around to stare wildly at them, his body flying back into the cage of birds. "I was never a member of the Nazi party! I only followed orders! I had absolutely nothing to do with the war - I didn't even know there was a war on -"

Jack looked taken off guard for a moment, his lips parting before he cleared his throat. "We're not with the government, Mister Harper. We've come here to discuss the matter of your play."

Instantly, Harper's face changed and he hopped forward, looking gleeful. "You mean _Springtime_?"

"Yes. We'd like to put on it on Broadway."

"_Broadway!_ Oh, joy of joys, dream of dreams! That would be wonderful!"

"Right, well," Jack held out a hand and Ianto handed him the papers for Harper to sign. "We'd need you to sign this so we can legally turn your play into a musical, Mister Harper. All you have to do is sign these lines and -"

Harper's face had suddenly closed off. It was actually rather frightening. "Nein."

Jack blinked again. "Nein?"

"_No_."

The American gave a nervous sort of grin and a chuckle. "That is what nein means." He was clearly trying to make a joke of it as he shifted the papers in his hands. "Well, is there any way we could convince you to sign this?" Jack showed the papers again, a slight panicked look on his face as he regarded the man in front of him. Harper seemed to think it over, a distant look in his eyes. Then, an almost scary smile settled on his face.

"You'd have to take the Zeigfried Oath."

_The what?!_ Ianto stared, blinking as Harper produced to swastikas and shoved one in both of Jack and Ianto's faces. Reluctantly, when Jack took his, Ianto did too and forced it on his arm with a flinch. "We're getting in too deep..." He muttered to Jack, who scoffed.

"Please. I'll tell you when we're in too deep."

Although it killed him a little inside, Ianto went along with the entire thing, his eyes glaring at Jack throughout the entire process as he listened to Harper prattle on about something or other. All Ianto knew that he'd repeated words, and then Harper had gleefully sent them on their way with a broad grin, obviously pleased.

"What did we just do?" Ianto inquired of Jack, who had the same goofy smile on his face.

"Oh, nothing. Don't worry about it. All that's important is we now have rights to the worst play written in history."

* * *

**Up next: Jack and Ianto head off to hire the worst director in town - John Hart.**

**And I need a poll on this, because I'm not sure now. Should the boyfriend/lover of John's character be Rhys or Andy? Choose wisely :P.  
**


	5. A Strange Encounter

**Holy crap, it's seriously been four months since I've updated this one? Many, _many_ apologies to those who still might be following this!**

**Anyway, after watching _The Producers_ with my friends a week ago (and recently having bought Torchwood season one of DVD :D), I've been inspired to continue with this, so here's Chapter Five where we first meet John and Andy xD. I hope that you enjoy it!  
**

* * *

Chapter Five:  
_A Strange Encounter_

Ianto was finding that it seemed quite normal for Jack to visit strange, out-of-place buildings, and he wasn't sure he liked this sudden discovery. Once they departed (hurriedly) from the place Harper called home, Jack had insisted on dragging Ianto to the home of some director named John Hart. He'd had a wicked grin on his face, which had made Ianto a bit queasy and nervous. Now they were both staring up at a tall, white marble house (_mansion, more like,_ Ianto thought with a grimace), that was about a hundred times bigger than his apartment.

"Welcome to the home of John Hart." Jack told Ianto cheerfully, grabbing onto his arm and tugging him along, ignoring the prolonged sigh. "Possibly the worst director I've ever had to work with. His stuff hasn't had a good review in _years_." He sounded delighted, the grin back on his lips as Jack straightened his shoulders and knocked on the front door.

A clattering reached their ears, and then - a few seconds later - a man with blond hair and blue eyes answered the door. He paused, then grinned. "Jack Harkness, right? You look like the one John goes on about some times."

"You got it right." Jack let go of Ianto's arm to stretch out a hand and shake the other man's. "And who are you?"

"Andy Davidson." The blond man straightened in an almost self important way, tilting his chin up a little. "I'm John's personal assistant." At this words, Jack gave a cough and hid a smirk, which made Ianto blink and glance at the older man before shaking his head. "Anyway, come in." With a friendly smile, Andy moved aside and let the other two enter, sliding the door shut and holding out a hand. "May I take your coats and your swastikas?" His smile had suddenly turned sharp, and Ianto felt his face flush.

Next to him, Jack gave a strangled laugh and quickly drew the thing off his arm, shoving it into a coat pocket and nudging Ianto hard in the ribs, who followed suit a second later. "Right. Uhh...here." Shrugging off his coat, Jack handed it to Andy, who gave a brief smile and accepted Ianto's a second later.

"Now if you'll just take a seat, I'll go and fetch him." He gestured around the room - which was a bright pink color that made Ianto's eyes burn slightly - and then headed toward a pair of double doors. As Ianto sat down on the couch (which was in the shape of a pair of big, pink lips) and Jack took one of the chairs, Andy opened the doors and closed them quickly. A second later, he heard the man yell, loudly, "_John, we're not alone!_"

Jack snickered as Ianto blinked once more, staring around the room with a small grimace. "I think they should sue."

"For what?" Shifting in his seat, Jack turned to look at Ianto, who was still looking around in disgust.

"This room is horrible. They should sue the decorator."

Once more, Jack burst into a loud bout of laughter before calming himself down enough to say, "They didn't hire one. John picked this all out himself. And he thinks he has excellent taste, so don't say anything to him. He gets offended pretty easily."

Ianto had enough time to make a mental note to himself to not _ever_ ask the fashion opinion of this John Hart, and to wonder why in the hell he'd decorated a room like this. Then the doors opened and a man with dark blond hair and sharp, rather intimidating eyes stepped out.

Wearing a dress.

_Well..._Ianto thought, _that explains it, then._

_

* * *

_**R&R please!**_  
_


End file.
